


a work of art

by seadancegraves



Category: Fantastic Beasts and Where to Find Them (Movies)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Anal Sex, Branding, Come as Lube, Daddy Kink, Inspired by Fanart, M/M, Marking, The Deathly Hallows, kind of, magical branding, or perhaps this is all in his head and they are one, real!graves is going to fight grindelwald someday, we'll never know
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-04-28
Updated: 2018-04-28
Packaged: 2019-04-28 21:05:55
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,816
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/14457738
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/seadancegraves/pseuds/seadancegraves
Summary: “Tonight I’m going to make you mine.”“What are you planning to do, sir?”“Something for me, then I promise to please you, immensely, my darling boy.”





	a work of art

**Author's Note:**

> so this art  
> http://millenraven.tumblr.com/post/156523020224/just-a-thought-after-watching-the-movie-what-if
> 
> it fucked me up. i used 95% of the dialogue from the comic.

The first thing he does is tell the boy to come close for a kiss on the cheek, a caress of the temple, and Credence bows and bends into it so beautifully. Graves wonders, how, before him, did the boy ever sleep through the night with an empty stomach and shivering hands?

“Take off your clothes.” Graves murmurs, and Credence’s entire body trembles, but he nods diligently, and begins undoing his belt, then his long fingered hands flick at every button, each one coming free and revealing more pale skin.

Graves has not yet given in to his greatest desire which is to mark every inch of Credence until the boy carries no more scars and pain from that bitch of a guardian, from the nomaj who despises their very existence.

“Tonight I’m going to make you mine.” He says, and Credence blinks over at him, a slight flush of color rising in his cheeks. There’s plenty Graves has said and done to him, that’s brought them both pleasure over the last few weeks, but the real reward for finding the obscurus, for recognizing that power in front of his eyes, is that Credence remains with him. He’s keeping the boy now. Credence is his.

Graves has always been possessive of lovely things, fragile things in need of protecting, but this boy is neither and both, all at once. He loves Credence, he thinks, deep down.

This gnawing ache inside him to have and hold and _break_ the boy isn’t about the power or the magic or obeying what his Master wants.

“What are you planning to do, sir?” Credence asks him, sweetly curious, his tone wavering but strong.

Graves licks his lips and lets his eyes play over the lanky limbs on display, the stretch of creamy unmarked skin begging for a touch.

“Something for _me_ , then I promise to please you, immensely, my darling boy.”

Graves’ wand warms in his hand, the wood singing with his magic, humming from anticipation, Credence nods slowly, and then lets himself be guided down, until he’s kneeling naked before Graves, looking at him with utter devotion in his gorgeous dark eyes. They turn pure white when he’s using his obscurus, and Graves thinks, somehow, he’s devastating at all times.

“Bend over.” Graves says, shushing Credence when he opens his mouth to protest, his face completely red as his lips, worried between his teeth.

Credence moves to be on all fours in front of Graves, gloriously exposed, deliciously naked, and he drags his hand from the nape of the boy’s neck to the dip of his spine. Old scars and new wounds all knit back together, as Graves heals Credence’s back to create a perfect blank canvas for the marks. For _his_ mark.

Silence reigns for a long moment, as Graves begins to replace gentle fingertips with his wand tip.

He starts only a few inches above Credence’s cleft, just over his lower back.

Graves forms the triangle, with swift sharp movements, as the boy gasps, and jerks underneath his free hand, resting over Credence’s right shoulder. “Ah-h-h, Mister Gra-aves...oh god, please, _it hurts…_ ”

Graves smiles indulgently, even though he knows the boy cannot see his face, cheek resting on the floor, arms folded beneath his chest, his skin warms to the touch, as his blush spreads from his neck down his back. “Yes, I know dear boy. I know it hurts.” The circle is next, and Graves twirls his wand with his wrist, a careful, certain movement, which leaves a red gleaming shape on Credence’s body.

“Um, it _really_ hurts.” Credence speaks again, and Graves sees the boy’s hands migrating out from under his chest, spreading flat on the floor, before curling into fists. There’s no sign of smoke emanating from Credence’s body yet, so he’s not in enough pain to risk turning. “You can stand it, Credence.”

The use of the boy’s name makes him shudder, and then still, while pushing back into Graves’ hands, arching his back and pressing his ass against where he knows Graves’ own body nearly folds atop him.

“Ah...uh, Mister Graves? Have you done it yet, it’s… it’s really painful. How much longer will it take?”

He sets his wand down on the floor in favor of reaching up, and putting a finger to his own lips.

Graves can feel the ghost of their kiss, even now, days later, as Credence whimpers softly, and he shifts his grip on the boy’s shoulders, grasping his fingers around his neck, and squeezing lightly.

“Shh-hh. Be quiet darling. You must have patience. It will soon be finished. An eternal mark of _mine_ on your body. It is as beautiful as you are. Isn’t that right?”

Credence will fight him tooth and nail for eternity, disagreeing that he’s anything but plain, hideous and malformed because of what hangs between his slender legs. He’s been taught to feel shame for any shred of bliss, and Graves is trying desperately to undo all those harmful lessons.

Graves only _knows_ why Credence is distressed because he can clearly see it.

Credence is aroused, and dripping onto the floor, from this, from the pain of being held down, and precisely formed into something Graves can deem perfect.

Graves pulls back to look over his work once more, and Credence’s breathing hitches, as if he knows he’s being watched for the sake of seeing.

“The cloak of invisibility, the elder wand, and the resurrection stone. The one who possesses all three shall be the master of death. Death, who destroys everything in his wake. This is our power, Credence. Remember, only I respect you, and love you. I can give you everything you’ve ever craved, or needed. I am the only one who can do this for you.”

Not even Graves’ master knows what he plans. The ultimate betrayal.

He’s been shaped into the warrior, the right hand man of he who thinks he will become master of death. But he’s quite wrong, deadly so, one might say. Graves smirks to himself, and pets a hand over the still healing flesh, hot to the touch, bleeding a little.

Credence exhales on a sigh, melting under Graves’ fingertips, as he looks to the boy’s face, he sees those gorgeous cheeks wet with tears.

“Only Mister Graves will love me…” Credence repeats quietly, and Graves reaches down with his free hand, wand discarded, finding the boy’s cock, fingers curling around the hard length of it, stroking firmly.

He can feel the boy’s rapid pulse in the heat of the organ, and Credence’s entire body jolts.

“Be a good boy for me, and come.” Graves murmurs, his own arousal surging to the forefront, gut clenching with need, cock thickening against the seam of his trousers.

He hasn’t been planning to simply fuck the boy in the middle of the kitchen, much less on the living room carpet, but mercy help him, Graves might have to. “Yes, _yes,_ I’ve always been a good boy, Papa.” Credence whines, and then rocks his hips down and forward, thrusting into Graves’ fist, where he feels the twitch and flex of the boy’s thighs around his wrist.

Credence comes with a keening moan, as his hands scrabble for purchase on the slickness of the tile floor. Graves keeps touching him throughout his orgasm, as waves of pleasure wrack the boy’s body, he finds it’s quite easy to catch the long spurts of Credence’s release against the palm of his hand.

He cups his fingers around the head of the boys cock, and collects the watery white ropes that spill out. Graves uses a quick spell to undo his own pants, freeing himself from the confines of his underwear and then he drags his hand up over his own cock, slicking the entire length with Credence’s semen.

Graves lowers himself over the top of Credence’s body, and grinds purposefully into the boy’s ass, not penetrating him, not yet, but giving the illusion of the act.

“Please, please, won’t you put it inside me?” Credence sobs, almost desperately, and Graves breathes out against the back of his neck, lips finding the side of a shoulder blade, before nipping and kissing right to the bottom edge of that hideous haircut. “Yes darling, if you like.”

Credence doesn’t know that it’ll take some preparation, more time than Graves is willing to spend right now, so as it happens, there’s a spell for this.

He curls the fingers of his free hand, and the boy’s following groan tells Graves he’s definitely never touched himself there, even during late night explorations. “Relax, and breathe for me, my boy.”

Credence does as he’s told, always, beautifully, so that when Graves guides his cock to the glistening pink clench of the boy’s ass, he can easily push in, until he’s fully sheathed.

The air feels punched from his lungs at how incredible it is, tight and hot and oh so wet, Graves’ eyes flutter closed, as he puts both hands to the sharp juts of Credence’s hips, and draws out enough to thrust back inside.

Again and again, Graves fucks into the boy, chasing his own gratification, knowing that there’s no pain from this, nor any remaining from the mark.

Credence is all his, blessedly and blissful, drowning in his own pleasure, Graves finally allows himself to come, pulling out to let his seed splatter over the boy’s lower back, dripping onto his ass, down his thighs. He covers the mark, and adds to the mess on the floor from Credence’s subsequent orgasm, where he’s come untouched, merely from Graves’ taking him.

“I love you, so much, my darling.” Graves says it, and means every word.

Credence echoes it with a small hiccup. He moves off of the boy and cleans them both with a wave of his hand, before kneeling up and scooping Credence’s bulky frame into his arms, staggering off to his bedroom with his precious cargo.

Graves has no intention of returning Credence to his church home, to his horrible nomaj relatives.

The boy is _his_ now, in every sense of the word. Graves drapes him over his bed, tucking blankets and sheets around his pale body, before moving away to shed his own clothing.

He climbs into the bed behind Credence, and pulls him close to his chest, hearing a soft whispering.

“Yes, Credence? What is it love?” Graves feels the boy shifting around in his hold, turning in his arms to face him, then nosing up for a kiss.

Credence’s lips taste like smoke and spice, forbidden and somehow delightful all at once.

“You’re mine too, aren’t you, Papa?” Graves lifts a hand to cradle the boy’s cheek, and thumbs away long since dried tears. “Indeed I am.”

Credence smiles against the kiss, and then nestles back into his chest, contentedly drifting off, leaving Graves to his thoughts, and wonderments.

 


End file.
